


Greetings From Seattle

by Probably_exhausted



Category: Grey's Anatomy, Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Villaneve, killing eve x grey's anatomy crossover, pining villanelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25589836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Probably_exhausted/pseuds/Probably_exhausted
Summary: Set somewhere within Season 2, Villanelle is given a job to assassinate a businessman in Seattle. He's already unwell and in hospital - Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. What should have been an easy and quick kill suddenly becomes a lot more complicated for Villanelle. (Just a wee Killing Eve x Grey's Anatomy crossover)
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Greetings From Seattle

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for this one, the idea just wouldn't go away until I wrote it down. It's just a silly little oneshot but hope y'all enjoy anyways! :)

_Greetings from Seattle_ the postcard read

“You know I hate America. It has no taste, it’s too big, and the food is really _really_ awful.” Villanelle scrunched up her nose in distaste, dropping the obnoxious postcard down onto the table.

Konstantin continued to stare at her, his expression unwavering. Annoyed, she mocked his expression with her usual exaggeration as if challenging him to a duel. He broke first.

“You know you can’t only work in the south of France, or old Italian cities. You have to go where management sends you.” He shrugged. Villanelle rolled her eyes.

“You don’t think I know this?”

“At least I’m not sending you to-“

“Do not say it.”

“-Florida.”

Villanelle scrunched her eyes shut.

“First class or I’m not going at all. And I get a break afterwards.” She warned, opening one eye.

“Business Premium, because you’re being annoying. And no break.” Konstantin shrugged.

“I really hate you sometimes.” She scowled, snatching the postcard off the table and stalking off into her apartment. She pretended she couldn’t hear Konstantin’s undoubtedly snarky reply.

* * *

It was raining, of course. Villanelle scowled as she stepped out of her hotel, shaking her umbrella out of her bag and using it to shield her perfectly styled hair. She was going for a distraught mistress alias for this particular client, having painstakingly done her makeup earlier to appear sleep deprived and tearful, though none the less devastating. She couldn’t have rain messing all that work up.

Bringing two fingers to her mouth, she whistled for the taxi that was making its way down the road. It quickly ground to a halt, narrowly missing splashing Villanelle with a large puddle. She shook the few droplets off her designer boots – maybe suede hadn’t been the best option – and climbed into the taxi with the intention to chew the driver’s ear off about etiquette.

“Good morning!” It was a cheery old man with a smile that shone through his eyes. Villanelle rolled her eyes, deciding against the chastising. She really was starting to mellow, she noted with disgust.

“Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital.” She muttered while smoothing her hair down. She ran over her plan in her mind again – upset mistress visiting her comatose partner. He had suffered a heart attack earlier in the week and as a result, fell into a coma.

She’d spend a few hours crying and being generally annoying to avoid suspicion, and then she’d slip the small vial of poison she’d created the night before into his IV giving her exactly fifteen minutes to get out before his heart stopped beating. Easy. And then she could get out of this horrible country. Maybe she’d go to the Cote D’Azur after, or maybe a weekend in Amsterdam to blow off some steam. Or, she could visit…no, not London. Definitely not London.

Villanelle was so engrossed in ruminating over where she’d be sipping champagne over the Mediterranean and avoiding thinking about the specific MI6 agent that would so rudely intrude her thoughts that she didn’t realise that she had pulled up outside the large and very impressive hospital.

“Keep the change.” She handed the driver a crisp $100 bill as she climbed out. He guffawed.

“Ma’am it was a $25 journey!” He exclaimed, leaning out of his window to gape at her.

“I’m Russian.” She shrugged, slamming the car door shut. Her trench coat billowed behind her as she stalked towards the large glass doors, undoubtedly attracting attention from those nearby. She noticed one tall and curvy brunette doctor do a double take while she was paying for a coffee. Villanelle responded with a wink and small upturn of the corner of her lips, though quickly hurried along when the brunette doctor received an offended elbow in the ribs from a smaller blonde woman – presumably her partner. _Woops_ , Villanelle snorted to herself.

She cleared her throat and begun to sniffle as she approached the front desk.

“One second, we’re very busy.” The receptionist held a finger up to Villanelle. She bit her tongue and distracted herself with trying to fake cry, lest she fulfil her urge to bite that receptionist’s finger off that she was still holding up. Luckily, the seething rage meant she could gather tears in her eyes much faster than she anticipated.

“How can I help?” The receptionist finally turned to Villanelle, raising an eyebrow.

“I was wondering if you – oh, sorry.” Villanelle allowed one tear to fall out of her right eye, sniffled and brushed it away. The Valley Girl accent she’d settled on was certainly adding to the effect. “-if, if you could tell me which room Mr Dan Scherr is in?”

The receptionist nodded, shoving the box of tissues on the counter wordlessly towards her. Villanelle gave a watery smile of gratitude, taking one and dabbing her eyes delicately with it.

“He’s in the cardiac unit. Are you family? I’ll need your name.” She asks, looking over to Villanelle. Villanelle had to think quick.

“Oh, well, you see…I’m his…” She did a fake look over her shoulder before dipping her head towards the expectant receptionist. “…mistress. His wife doesn’t know, so I’d rather my name not be in a record as visiting him. Well, I’m sure she must have known because he was buying me all these expensive gifts, you see, and surely she must have thought something was going on when he booked us a ‘work trip’ to Bora Bora I mean who-“

“That’s quite enough. Room 5114. Lift’s on the right.” The receptionist had held her hand up to stop Villanelle, staring at her disapprovingly. Villanelle straightened up, offering another watery smile.

“Thank you _so_ much.” Another tear. She turned around, smirking to herself and wiping the tears away from her cheeks.

Unfortunately for the couple that she had seen outside earlier, they had managed to accidentally catch the lift with her. The taller brunette, who was extraordinarily beautiful now that Villanelle could see her up close, looked extremely uncomfortable while the blonde – a paediatric surgeon, by what Villanelle could catch off her lab coat – stood there with folded arms and an arched eyebrow. Villanelle liked her. The lift got to the fifth floor, and Villanelle squeezed her way through the pair. She turned around and winked at both of them as the doors shut, just giving time to see the blonde’s mouth fall open.

 _Americans_ , Villanelle thought. _Always so dramatic about everything._

At least Eve didn’t feel to be that American - maybe the time she had spent in the UK had changed her. Or maybe it was that boring moustachey slab of a husband who had just dulled her – and there she was again, thinking about Eve.

She shook her head, approaching the nurse’s station in the cardiac unit.

“Room 5114?” She asked the two nurses at the station. They pointed to a room a few doors down, and she gave a small smile back. She feigned a loud gasp, for dramatic flair of course, as she looked into the room.

Villanelle’s favourite part of her work was the killing, naturally, but the acting and pretence was a close second. Putting on accents, changing her whole personality to the point that she was unrecognisable – what was it, a _chameleon_ that Eve had once referred to her as?

She rather enjoyed her current role. She would sit in the visitor’s chair, occasionally stroking her victim’s hand and sniffling whenever a nurse would walk by. One doctor did come in – a rather good-looking neurosurgeon – to check on his coma. She had enjoyed teasing him. Flirting with him, making him uncomfortable with the details of her and the CEO’s ‘relationship’. Enough to get him out of the room quickly.

A few hours had passed, and Villanelle was getting bored. She had long since disabled the CCTV in the room and surrounding hallways, and there was only so many times she could look at her soon-to-be kill and imagine what his life was like and who would miss him – hopefully an actual mistress, she snorted to herself.

She stood up and reached for her handbag, lithe fingers enclosing the small vial in there. Another double check down the hallway and the coast was clear. She reached for the IV bag, unscrewing the small opening at the top. That was, until she heard a throat clear from behind her.

“Should I call security?”

Villanelle’s eyes flew wide. _Not possible._ That deep and alluring voice, she would know it anywhere. She turned around slowly, the composed assassin unusually rattled.

Of course, there was Eve.

“Hmm. I like the costume, by the way. Blue suits you.” Villanelle smirked with her natural accent back in full force, gesturing towards her light blue scrubs and tightly fitting lab coat. Her curly hair was loose around her shoulders, much to Villanelle’s delight. Eve frowned, her mouth falling open. This gave Villanelle pause.

“What, devastatingly beautiful Russian got your tongue?” She took a step towards Eve, growing more unsettled as each second of Eve’s out of character reaction continued.

“I… _what?”_ Eve shook her head, holding her hands out to stop Villanelle coming any closer. Villanelle looked down at the outstretched hands, frowning and looking back up to her.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Villanelle spat, her patience wearing thin. Why was Eve being like this?

A whole new expression fell over Eve’s face, one Villanelle hadn’t seen before. Her eyes almost lit on fire in ways that reminded Villanelle of…well, her own temper.

“What the hell is wrong with _me?”_ She gaped. “What the hell is wrong with _you?_ Why are you meddling with my freaking patient? Actually, y’know what, I’m calling security.”

Eve reached behind her for her phone, but Villanelle whacked it out of her hand before she could do anything. The assassin grabbed hold of her wrist to restrain her, judging whether or not to use her spare hand to muffle her if she was about to scream. She didn’t. Instead, her wide eyes just darted between Villanelle’s in terror. It reminded Villanelle so much of Eve when she’d first met her.

“Why are you being like this, Eve? Are you _trying_ to upset me?” Villanelle shook her wrist to punctuate the questions.

“Who the hell is Eve?”

Now Villanelle was well and truly stumped, and that was incredibly rare for the whip-smart assassin. She couldn’t tell if Eve was playing some silly game with her, but there was something different in the way she was carrying herself that Villanelle couldn’t quite place.

“What?” Villanelle barked, baring her teeth as she tightened her grip on the other woman.

“Let . Go . Of . Me.” Eve enunciated back, pulling on Villanelle’s grip.

“Who are you?” Villanelle asked, more gently than before.

“Dr Cristina Yang. I’m a cardiothoracic surgical fellow.” She took Villanelle’s shocked face as an opportunity to free her wrist, taking a step away from the wild-eyed blonde.

“No.”

“No?” Cristina snorted, folding her arms. “I’m pretty sure I know who I am.”

Oh, this was new for Villanelle. Very, very new. She normally was the one with the overconfident personality and the upper footing in any conversation, yet here she was being upshown by an imposter in Eve’s skin.

Villanelle screamed in frustration, swiping the contents of the nightstand onto the floor. The doctor jumped back, startled by the outburst.

“I don’t understand!” Villanelle exclaimed, drawing out the end of the word. “How can you look exactly like her?”

“Like…Eve?”

“Yes!” Villanelle stalked back over to the doctor, searching her eyes. They really didn’t belong to Eve. Her face was the same, her body, her hair…but not her eyes. Instinctively, Villanelle tucked a stray curl behind Christina’s ear.

“Oh-kay.” Cristina removed Villanelle’s hand from her face. “I actually have a…friend, that might be able to help you find Eve.”

“Is he a short man, grey hair, very Russian, incredibly annoying?” Villanelle frowned, tilting her head.

Cristina shook her head.

“No, but I can get him here in a minute.” She gave Villanelle a polite smile as she reached for her phone. Oh. _Oh._

“I’m not crazy! I do not need a shrink!” Villanelle exclaimed, again swatting the phone from the other woman’s hand. Cristina sighed and steeled her with a frustrated glare. Wow, sometimes she _did_ wish that Eve would look at her like that more. Out of the corner of her eye, Villanelle noticed that one of the nurses was occasionally glancing in the room – they must have caught their attention with the yelling. She was running out of time.

“Cristina.” Villanelle smirked, enunciating every syllable of the foreign name to the familiar face. The doctor nodded warily.

“Yes?”

“I don’t like it. Eve suits you better.”

“Screw you?”

“Sorry baby.” Villanelle pouted, stepping forwards again. “And sorry for this.”

In a moment, her trained hands had pressed into Cristina’s neck, just behind her jaw at the pulse point, and the doctor’s eyes rolled back into her head as she crumpled. Villanelle had seconds. She masterfully administered the poison. Then – she was weighing up her options of walking through the hospital and potentially get lost before it went into lockdown, or…

Five stories wasn’t _that_ high. With one final wistful glance at Cristina, and an even more wistful glance at her doomed new suede boots, she swung herself out of the window and begun to scale down the building.

* * *

The knocking on the door was becoming incessant. Villanelle growled, throwing a pillow off her bed.

“KONSTANTIN! I know you have a key so stop being stupid and just let yourself in!” She yelled, pulling the duvet closer around her. It seemed to work a trick as the knocking stopped, and the front door to her apartment clicked open.

“Villanelle.” He reprimanded, standing in her bedroom doorway with folded arms. “I could have asked a hoard of elephants to stampede over the man’s head and they would have been more subtle than you.”

“I was distracted! Eve’s doppelganger was there!” Villanelle complained, throwing one arm out from under the duvet to gesticulate.

“That is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard. Management is not happy at all with you.” He shook his head.

“It’s true.” Villanelle sat up to glare at him. “Freckle for freckle, hair strand for hair strand. Exactly the same. It was most bizarre.”

“I don’t care who she looked like. You know better than this, Oksana.” He chastised. “I think you should take that break.”

He looked at her for a moment longer.

“Oh, by the way. The doctor you attacked is one of the top cardiothoracic surgeons in America.” He informed her. Villanelle feigned guilt, biting on her bottom lip before bursting out into peals of laughter. Konstantin remained emotionless.

“I’m sorry.” Villanelle apologised once she had stopped laughing.

“Are you?” He sighed.

“No, not at all!” Villanelle set herself off into another laughing fit, proving enough for Konstantin. He turned to leave.

“Where will you take your break?” He called behind him as he made his way to her front door.

Villanelle’s wine-sipping Mediterranean fantasies from Seattle were still floating around her mind, but now that she realised it was finally time to pay someone a visit.

“London.”


End file.
